Compulsion of Blood
by Hizzonner
Summary: Crimson Flower and Paralogue spoilers. During the war against the Church, many former friends were lost, including the mysteriously disappeared Marianne von Edmund. Wanting to repair her old friendships as much as possible after the destruction of the war, Edelgard sends Hubert to search for the lost Edmund heir. A dailyish Halloween challenge until 31 Wyvern Moon arrives.
1. 15 Pegasus Moon, '85 Edmund Margraviate

From the correspondence of Edelgard, Emperor of Adrestia, courtesy of the Imperial Archives:

15 Pegasus Moon, 1185; Edmund Margraviate

Your Imperial Majesty,

As you ordered, I arrived in Edmund territory two days ago to begin my investigation into the disappearance of Marianne von Edmund. The territory is in quite good shape, having avoided the worst of the war. The Margraviate of Edmund has a unique geographical advantage among the former Alliance, having rich lands while also remaining distant from both Almyra and the rest of Fódlan. It would be a prize for any invading army, but it is so out of the way that it is simpler to go straight for Deirdru, as we did. If I glean nothing else from my time here, I can conclude that Margrave Edmund will need little aid for reconstruction when the war is over.

In spite of their relative prosperity, the commoners here are skittish. While I appreciate a touch of apprehension when I enter a room, the locals are always on the lookout. It didn't take much eavesdropping to learn that Margrave Edmund has an animal control problem. Demonic beasts are common here, apparently having increased in number while the margrave's soldiers were at the front, and they have a habit of snatching people for their meals. I suspect that we might have found a hiding place of Those Who Slither in the Dark, if there are so many beasts appearing. I am looking into that possibility.

Nevertheless, it should not be assumed that there is such an infestation. I have yet to verify the locals' claims, and other theories abound. The most common alternative is promoted by a crest scholar in the territory whom I have yet to meet. He claims that it is in fact, only _one_ beast that is hunting humans. That was the most information I could get from the locals, but I shall have to seek out this man.

I sending this letter from an inn on the edge of Edmund territory. Afterwards, I will make my way to Castle Edmund, where I will relay your greetings and orders to Margrave Edmund, as well as begin my search for Lady von Edmund.

Your Majesty's humble servant,

Marquis Vestra


	2. 16 Pegasus Moon, 1185 Castle Edmund

From the correspondence of Edelgard, Emperor of Adrestia, courtesy of the Imperial Archives:

16 Pegasus Moon, 1185; Castle Edmund

Your Imperial Majesty,

First, the business of the Empire. Margrave Edmund has accepted your greetings and returns them in kind. I have attached his letter to mine. He has also accepted your orders and will begin implementing them in his territory. Truth be told, he was furious, though he did well to hide it. For a man who has been slowly manipulating his house to one of the Five Great Houses of Leicester from his youth, the abolition of the hereditary peers will be devastating. (With a supposedly missing heir, however, who would he pass it to? I suspect he will be useful in locating Lady von Edmund.) Nevertheless, he is an able administrator and he proved his dedication to his country when he aided Claude in the war. If he proves as loyal to the imperial throne, I will advise his retention of his title. But that requires more time to determine.

Now for the investigation. There is no sign of Lady von Edmund in the castle. As far as I can tell, only the Margrave and his servants live here. I raised the topic of the Edmund heir to the margrave, but he instantly became distraught, and refused to speak of it. I did not press him, lest it cause political troubles, but I ask you permission to pull on that thread if I deem it necessary.

After a meal held by the margrave, I was given liberty to explore the castle. It is a fairly humble structure by size, which is fitting for a house that has only risen to prominence in recent years. His lordship compensates with expensive decorations, with tapestries depicting the founding of the Alliance and the legacy of House Edmund. Ever the politician, he has placed large banners bearing the imperial coat of arms on the walls, though I found old Alliance banners tucked in a closet, not yet dusty.

Perhaps the most notable of these gaudy decorations are a series of portraits lining the main hall. They bear the likenesses of each of the holders of the margraviate with a plaque listing their lifespans and tenures as margrave or margravine. At the end of the line, however, is one portrait without a plaque, clearly showing Marianne von Edmund. The Margrave saw me looking at the portrait and stepped up behind me, saying nothing. I decided to test him.

"Excuse me, Lord Edmund, but who is this young lady?"

The Margrave rankled, but remained respectful. "She was my daughter. I commissioned that portrait in anticipation of her eventual ascension as Margravine Edmund. I'm surprised you don't recognize her. I had always hoped to bring her out of her shell, even bringing her with me to meetings of Duke Riegan's Great Lords during the war. I wanted her to become a leader that all Fódlan could follow."

"I'm afraid I am not familiar with her," I told him. By every indication, he seemed unaware that I had been a student at Garreg Mach at the same time as Lady von Edmund, and I preferred to keep him unaware. "Nevertheless, my liege was a student at Garreg Mach at the same time as Lady Marianne, as I presume you know."

The margrave looked away. "Yes… yes, I was aware. At the time, I had hoped my daughter would be able to make connections with her Majesty and the other two nations' heirs. Unfortunately, she struggled to make friends of any station, and then there was the attack on the monastery…" He trailed off, presumably to avoid criticizing your Majesty in my presence. An intelligent man, to say the least.

I remained silent for a while before continuing. "Am I correct to assume she died in the attack then?"

"…Yes. She was killed when the Immaculate One shattered the monastery."

His hesitation betrayed the lie, but it was a clever one. I was not sure which part was the deception: that Lady von Edmund had died, or that it was the Immaculate One who bore the responsibility. Margrave Edmund would have reason to tell both, but only one could be true.

"On behalf of her Majesty, I offer her earnest condolences and apology for the role her Majesty played in your daughter's death. I will inform her as soon as possible. I know she never wanted her fellow students to be caught up in the war to defeat the Church, though she knew it was impossible to avoid.

Margrave Edmund clearly did not appreciate the belated sympathies, especially when offered by an intermediate, but he had the wisdom to accept them anyway. Nevertheless, he quickly walked out, preventing me from asking any further questions about Lady von Edmund.

I suppose it would be appropriate to describe the portrait for you. The Marianne in the portrait looked slightly older than the one I recall, which could indicate that she did in fact survive the Battle of Garreg Mach, or it may merely be artistic license. Her hairstyle is similar to that she most often wore in school, except the loose strands are tightly braided up like the rest, and the bangs are trimmed short. She wears a dark blue dress with a short shawl over the shoulders. Held by a hand in a white opera glove is a small bird, similar to those she was always around at the monastery. Her face is flat and expressionless, not unlike the Professor before his change following the Battle of Fhirdiad. No clues are immediately clear at this point from the portrait.

Small as the castle is, it will take more than one day to explore. I will send another letter tomorrow, when I have seen more.

Your Majesty's humble servant,

Marquis Vestra


	3. 17 Pegasus Moon, 1185 Castle Edmund

**For the record, this story is less thought-out than others I've published here. I'm kind of just winging it and setting a deadline for myself for practice's sake. Don't mind me, I'm just having fun. I hope you enjoy it too.**

* * *

From the correspondence of Edelgard, Emperor of Adrestria, courtesy of the Imperial Archives:

17 Pegasus Moon, 1185; Castle Edmund

Your Imperial Majesty,

I seem to have earned Margrave Edmund's ire. The servants avoid me as if they have been ordered so. The margrave himself is coldly polite—a state I actually prefer—and he interfered often with my attempt to explore the castle. Any attempt to enter the keep or the west wing was stymied, forcing me to resort to magic to bypass his lordship.

I explored the keep first, warping directly while the margrave dealt with other affairs of the region. It seems that the Margrave keeps his quarters there—an odd decision, but perhaps he has a fondness for high views or long stair climbs. Compared to the rest of the castle, his quarters are tastefully austere. I suppose it speaks to the margrave's humility, in a way. The gaudiness of the outside is part of his quest for advancing his house's influence, but private quarters need no embellishments for that; so he forgoes luxuries for the self. The most valuable source of information was a sealed private diary that I found and opened with a bit of magic.

The margrave clearly is more hopeful in the entries before the Battle of Garreg Mach, and he writes often and fondly of his daughter. Here is an excerpt from before she enrolled at the Officers' Academy.

_Marianne's education is progressing well. Her tutors particularly praise her talent in theology and the sciences. One has suggested that I enroll her at the military school at Garreg Mach Monastery, and it was as if he read my mind. The Officers' Academy is perhaps the most prestigious school in Fódlan for young leaders, and word has it that the heirs of the Empire, the Kingdom, and the Alliance will all be attending at the same time for at least one year while Marianne would be attending!_

_Furthermore, it has Hanneman von Essar, the Father of Crestology, on the faculty, who might be able to help Marianne learn to embrace her crest rather than to despise it. At the very least, he will be more helpful than that dog who keeps barking every time Marianne leaves the castle. I am not a cruel man, but I wouldn't mind misplacing that "crest scholar" on the wrong side of Fódlan's Locket._

_As enthralled as I am with the political potential the Officers' Academy promises, I realize that it's not only about politics for me anymore. When I took in Marianne, it was a purely practical decision. I lacked a legitimate heir or a means to obtain one, at least one with a crest. And so I adopted one, who I would mold into exactly the kind of heir House Edmund deserved. That plan hasn't changed, but my motives have. I am still, of course, focused on the rise of House Edmund in the Alliance, but now I want Marianne to succeed for herself as well. I want her to become the confident leader that holds the ear of Duke Riegan and the hearts of the people of Leicester. I want her to forget whatever "curse" her crest supposedly has and claim it for her own and for House Edmund._

_If nothing else, I want her, when she eulogizes me in her first speech as margravine, to call me "father" without appending the word adopted. But all this has and will take time, which I understand._

However, the diary gives no information about Lady von Edmund after the fall of Garreg Mach. It is not that there are no entries for that time, but rather, he simply doesn't write about her. The tone of these entries are also cold and automatic. It is like reading a ledger. The most recent entry mentions my arrival, but states nothing of his opinion of me or of your Majesty. It is plain business and nothing else.

It took longer to explore the west wing. Margrave Edmund was suspicious when he had been unable to find me, and so he posed a series of hard questions in an effort to break me without success. After he finally let me free, I took precautions to ensure the margrave would be distracted for several hours while I explored. The west wing had far more ground to cover than the keep, but it was clear from the moment I entered why it was forbidden. The rooms were decorated discreetly, with pleasant aesthetics and what I only know how to describe as "the feminine touch." The paintings on the walls were not of family politicians and soldiers, but of landscapes and nature scenes. Plants stood in the light from every window, giving life even to this vast, empty set of chambers. Put simply, your Majesty would have enjoyed it.

Nevertheless, the whole wing was, without exception, empty. Not a man, woman, child, or animal could be found. It seemed that the entire area was preserved for its own sake, and I presume that the only people to ever enter before me were there only to care for the flowers and not stay a second longer. However, I still had more to search.

As I approached the end of the wing's main hall, I realized that there was a draft coming from somewhere, and gradually, the options for its source narrowed to the far end of the west wing. The draft eventually became accompanied by a whistling sound, leading me to a shuttered window that had apparently been blown open by the wind. It was strange that a window with shutters would be here at all, given that every other window had been covered in glass and served primarily for lighting. To have only one shuttered window seemed out of line with that purpose.

The room itself was something of an enigma. It was circular with larger stained-glass windows showing the life cycle of Leicester's famous golden deer. They started with the birth of a fawn, then the same fawn playing with its mother in the meadow, then the young buck locking antlers in the mating season, and then the fully grown stag saving an Alliance soldier from a Kingdom attacker during the war for Leicester's independence. But the final stage was not on the windows at all. To find it, my eyes followed a ladder to the ceiling, where a fresco depicted the tragic death of the golden deer to a demonic beast of unknown origin, similar but not identical to the Black Beast that Miklan Gautier transformed into so long ago. The painting was as of yet unfinished, stopping at the point where the ladder sat. After climbing the ladder, I examined the paint to find that, although dry, the fresco had been worked on recently.

I climbed down the ladder and found nothing else of interest in the room, save the open window. Taking care not to make myself visible to anyone who might be outside, I carefully approached the opening and looked out, finding nothing but recently fallen autumn leaves from the maple trees outside. I shut the window for the sake of discretion before turning back down the hall.

Unfortunately, my exploration of the wing's side rooms was cut short when I heard someone open the large main doors. Keeping concealed behind a cracked door, I watched Margrave Edmund walk alone toward the circular room, too far for me to see or hear what he was doing. Shortly afterwards, he stomped back down the hall in a huff, and I decided to warp myself back to my quarters. I assume that he suspects my intrusion, but while in my room, I received only a polite question from a maid about whether I wished to eat dinner. I declined.

I believe it is best to remain in one spot for a while, so today's snooping must come to an end. Tomorrow, I anticipate strife with the margrave, but I will endeavor to explore that hall again before he decides that I am too bothersome. I will send another update tomorrow evening if it is possible.

Your Majesty's humble servant,

Marquis Vestra


	4. 18 Pegasus Moon, 1185 Deirdru

From the correspondence of Edelgard, Emperor of Adrestria, courtesy of the Imperial Archives:

18 Pegasus Moon, 1185; Deirdru

Your Imperial Majesty,

As anticipated, Margrave Edmund had found me out, or at least he suspected me strongly enough to want me gone. However, his behavior seemed less angry and more dejected.

He confronted me when I met him at breakfast the morning after my previous letter. Once we began, he called over a servant and ordered him to bring down my luggage. I asked him why, and he replied thus:

"You are no longer welcome here, Lord von Vestra. I have reason to believe you have violated my request to stay out of the west wing, and so I insist that you leave."

"You would cast out the emissary of her Majesty?" I said with mock surprise. "What evidence do you have? Such accusations are impertinent to say the least."

I expected him to restate himself in a way to express his respect for the imperial house—that it was only me personally for whom he held contempt—but he did not. "I need none, your lordship. This is my house and my land and my people, and you are welcome among none of them. For your own good, you had better return to Enbarr as soon as possible." He looked me in the eye almost too directly, which I interpreted to be the sign of a bluff.

"Unacceptable. I don't need to remind you that you are not in control of any of these things anymore. Her Majesty cares not for who possesses crests or titles, but only for those who make themselves beneficial to Fódlan. If you are so eager to see the eyes of the Emperor leave, then it is clear that they must remain to watch all the more closely."

Margrave Edmund became only more determined. He rose from his seat and pounded his knuckles on the table, rattling his silverware. "Let the Emperor herself and the whole army come if her Majesty wills it! But you must go. And if she comes, she will bring that army or she will suffer."

Although his words were shrill with rebellion, and though his expression twisted in fury, I saw a haggardness beneath it all, made more visible as he hunched over the table. The lines in his face made him seem as if he had aged twenty years in the night. Looking more closely, I believe I could even make out some of his purple veins, which certainly had not been visible before.

As curious as this was, I could not permit his insurrectionism. I rose as well, more slowly than he, and gave a soft laugh. "Bold words, Edmund. Even Duke Riegan himself was not so brash as to fight to the bitter end. It seems a little late, however. Perhaps it was said in jest?"

The margrave fidgeted, but did not back down. "I don't intend an ounce of rebellion. I am simply telling you how you can avoid a dreadful mistake. Both you, Marquis, and her Majesty. Bring your army and whatever else you can if you dare come to Edmund territory again. Now leave. This is the last time we will speak."

Margrave Edmund stormed out of the room, and true to his word, I never saw him the rest of the day. Before leaving, I did make an effort to investigate the west wing again, only to find it unlocked and without guards. For precaution, I warped in anyway, but it seems that the Margrave had the wing stripped bare in the night. The flowers were gone, the paintings vanished, and even the ladder and shutters were removed. I interrogated the servants about the disappearance, figuring that secrecy was no problem anymore, but all seemed honestly ignorant.

I have since traveled to Riegan territory where I will wait until I receive word from your Majesty on how to proceed. If Margrave Edmund intends to rebel, I have spies within his territory ready to give advance word, and I have also ordered imperial forces in the area to stand by. Until then, I will remain outside Edmund territory, and the investigation into Lady von Edmund will be suspended.

Your Majesty's humble servant,

Marquis Vestra


	5. 27 Wyvern Moon, 1186 Edmund Margraviate

From the correspondence of Edelgard, Emperor of Adrestria, courtesy of the Imperial Archives:

27 Wyvern Moon, 1186; Edmund Margraviate

Your Imperial Majesty,

Attached you will find Minister von Bergliez's report on the clean-up operations at Shambhala. Surprisingly, he has been quite effective in organizing the military in hunting down the remaining cells of Those Who Slither in the Dark. His enthusiasm is still excessive, but I must admit that I am impressed by his ability to coordinate large scale operations, even if his skill in commanding small battalions is lacking. While I have previously advised against appointing him as the military minister, I now understand why you were so willing to look past his more irritating qualities. That said, I do not look forward to cabinet meetings with his presence.

I myself left Shambhala on the same day that von Bergliez submitted his report, one week ago. I made brief visits to Count Ordelia and Duke Goneril. Lady Lysithea von Ordelia is well for the moment and sends her regards. I received no further details as to her health. Duke Goneril reports no problems at the border: all Almyran raids have been repelled with little difficulty. Nevertheless, I still advise that his title and defense of the border be entrusted to another. Lord Holst does a poor job of concealing his resentment of your Majesty. Hilda Goneril's memory is still heavy on his mind. Particularly with someone like Claude von Riegan still a lingering threat in Almyra, we should see to it that Fódlan's Locket is entrusted to someone with fewer reasons to collaborate.

After leaving Goneril territory, I left my entourage at the former Eastern Church cathedral outside Edmund territory. Every indication coming out of Edmund territory is that the hostility of Margrave Edmund has subsided, but I decided that it was better to enter alone anyway. After all, it is far easier to conceal myself than a battalion. Nevertheless, I encountered no Edmund troops for days. Every indication from the locals is that Margrave Edmund's hostility has subsided. In fact, they suggest that no one has actually seen Margrave Edmund in months, even though communications are still proceeding from Castle Edmund.

This of course is a major change for a political climber like Lord von Edmund, which instantly brings to mind Those Who Slither in the Dark. While my skeptic nature prevented me from jumping to that conclusion, it seemed like a good place to begin our search for our enemies' remnants in the region.

I arrived at Castle Edmund yesterday evening, choosing to approach in the dark and through the forest. The air was chilled and the dew of the morning was still frozen on the grass thanks to an early cold snap blowing in from Sreng. Unfortunately, it made a silent approach difficult, as the frozen grass snapped underneath my step, and my breath was visible in the moonlight.

However, it seemed that there was nobody around to see. No light came from any of the castle's windows, nor any smoke from fireplaces within. No guards stood watch. It was nothing but a silent stone hulk.

Since I was operating on the hunch that Margrave Edmund had been compromised by Those Who Slither, I assumed it was a trap. It was possible that the local cell had heard of my visits to Count Ordelia and Duke Goneril and determined that I was headed for Edmund territory. I elected to project an illusion of myself warping to the roof of the building, hoping to lure out my hunters. But none emerged. I then sent my illusion within the castle (which was more risky, since I could easily project my decoy into a solid object without being able to see where it was). Once again, no stir.

I finally emerged myself from the woods on foot. With each step, the only sound was crackling grass and a few far-off wolf howls. I warped across the moat past the closed portcullis.

Upon entry, I used a weak fire spell to create a tongue of flame hovering above my fingers. The light showed that the castle was almost bare compared with what I remembered from a year prior, with the carpets and tapestries gone. The Adrestrian banners did remain, but bore massive tears and scorch marks. While I certainly was displeased to see it, it indicated that anyone hostile to my arrival was likely well and truly gone. Margrave Edmund certainly had reason to hate the Empire. Yet I could not guess why he would have left, nor why the locals would report that communications were still coming from Castle Edmund.

The rest of the rooms seemed to be the same. The dining hall's portraits were gone with only nails remaining. The massive table also remained alone among the furniture, presumably because it was too massive to remove intact. A visit to the keep showed that, at very least, the margrave no longer slept in the same room, being indistinguishable from a maximum security prison cell except for the freely swinging door.

As before, the last place I visited was the west wing, but I stopped short as soon as I crept through the large doors when I realized that there actually was carpet when I entered. A quick glance showed that quite a few furnishings were still in the room, such as torches on the walls and flowers in the windows. I was reminded of the last time I had entered this area, when all the furnishings had been stripped from here and the rest of the building was intact.

I continued down the main hall to the round room with the stained glass and ceiling fresco. As the rest of the wing, it was refurnished, but more importantly, the gruesome image on the ceiling of the dying deer was completed. The missing portion was an unknown male priest with his arms crossed in front of himself, superimposed over the scene of the deer and the beast. His left hand displayed his palm toward the viewer, with a crest I didn't recognize hovering above it. In his right hand was an ornate sword with a curve resembling that of a human spinal cord and a red gem in the hilt. Typically, such gems were indicators of Heroes' Relics, but as your Majesty knows, I am quite familiar with the history of the Ten Elites, and none of them bore this sword. I have included a sketch of this person, as well as his sword and crest. If it is a real crest, I suspect that Minister von Hevring and Hanneman von Essar will be able to find it out.

My discoveries in the west wing made me doubt again about the castle's desertedness, but I no longer suspect any kind of ambush. I have decided to send this letter in the nearest village and quickly return. Not only do I require shelter from the cold, but I plan on being here if anyone else comes down these halls. I have already found an appropriate location to hide myself and have cast a spell on all entrances to the west wing that will wake me if someone comes in. I will write again when I have more information.

Your Majesty's humble servant,

Marquis Vestra


	6. 28 Wyvern Moon, 1186 Edmund Margraviate

From the correspondence of Edelgard, Emperor of Adrestria, courtesy of the Imperial Archives:

28 Wyvern Moon, 1186; Edmund Margraviate

Your Imperial Majesty,

Events of the past day have been hectic, so forgive me if this letter seems disordered, and forgive my dramatic flair. The events are fresh in my mind, so I can think of them little differently.

My sleep ended in the early morning before sunrise, perhaps the fourth hour. My tripwire spells were undisturbed, but nevertheless I felt an extreme discomfort, "as if I were being watched," as the saying goes. I kept still as I corralled my senses, realizing that I could hear a heavy breathing, like that of a hard-run horse.

I carefully pulled myself off the ground, careful to make no noise. I couldn't understand how anything could have gotten in the wing without my knowing. I had searched the entire wing and enchanted every entrance large enough for even a small dog to squeeze through. But this sounded much larger than that. Regardless, I doubted my ability to stay hidden for long. I had accounted for vision when I chose my hiding place, but I had neglected scent. I waited for the creature to enter my line of sight, after which I would quickly warp out. However the beast got in, I was certain that I could escape the premises before it found its way back out.

The thumping of its steps began to shake the floor. The first part of its body to come into my line of sight was a clawed paw with the twisted, ribbon-like black scales that indicated that this was a demonic beast of some sort, but fairly small, like the cylindrical-headed ones commonly used by Those Who Slither in the Dark. As it came further into view, however, it was clear that this was closer to a Black Beast, with a thick gray hide and a large horn, but lacking the spines that Miklan possessed. I warped out, and instantly heard a roar from within. As I ran across the grass toward the woods, a massive crash sounded, signaling its anger, or perhaps its rush to find its way back out to me. As I reached the tree line, however, a more harrowing sound bellowed from inside.

"_YOU CANNOT HIDE. YOU HAVE ROUSED MY BEASTLY BLOOD, AND WILL SUFFER FOR IT."_

The voice was throaty and guttural and, being honest, your Majesty, I found it truly disturbing. With one glance back, I saw one of its arms writhing out of a window in my direction. I warped further into the forest, hoping that the repeated teleportations would lead the creature to lose my scent.

The rapid warping quickly exhausted me, and I soon found myself wandering the forest alone, freezing, and vulnerable. Worse yet, I had little idea where I was, and the encounter with the demonic beast reminded me of those rumors I had heard a year ago of the infestation in Edmund territory. I needed to find civilization quickly.

I thought more about which way I had run from Castle Edmund. The image of the reaching arm reemerged in my mind's eye, by which I recalled the bulk of the castle being to the right of the image. That meant I had fled south, but it also brought to mind the face that my tripwire spell had not triggered when the creature's arm burst through the window. If that was true, the creature could have come through only through the main doors, but surely I would have noticed it bursting through anyway.

I returned my focus to navigation. If I was south of Castle Edmund, I knew that a river would be most quickly found to the southwest, and the river would eventually lead to a village. I progressed in that direction.

I reached the river as expected and began following it upstream, reaching a dam before any village, which was surprising to me. I did not know Leicester geography well, but this dam was quite large, to the point that I would expect to have learned of it from our scouts during the war. Unless, of course, it were somehow more recent.

I couldn't take much more time in the cold, so I approached the house built nearby and knocked on the door, but I soon regretted it when a familiar face opened the door.

Standing in the doorway in hunter's gear was the elusive Margrave Edmund.

"Marquis Vestra?"

"How surprising to meet you here, Margrave."

I watched the margrave's expression closely, which slowly changed from surprise to, of all things, satisfaction.

"Likewise, your lordship. Very strange the circumstances of this meeting compared to our last, hmm?" He stepped aside, gesturing for me to come inside.

If this was an imposter, he certainly seemed to want me to realize it. With the exception of Kronya so many years ago, Those Who Slither had always been meticulous about their disguises, but I never recalled the astute politician Margrave Edmund behaving anything like this grinning woodsman. His speech, his mannerisms, and certainly his dress was completely out of place. I decided that they must have assumed that I had sussed them out somehow, rather than stumbling upon them by chance.

Being too weak to risk a fight, I chose to bluff, trying to look as suspicious and manipulative as possible. "Quite, Margrave. How surprised my men were when we found no one at the castle. Almost as if you didn't want to be found. Of course, that could not be the case, could it?"

"Edmund" stepped over to the small wooden dinner table and pulled out two chairs. "I should hope not. As bitter as our last parting was, her Majesty must know that I've done nothing to earn her ire. This territory has been nothing but cooperative, has it not?"

"One would think so," I said as I sat down, "yet that still leaves the question of why you abandoned Castle Edmund."

Edmund chuckled. "Touché, your lordship. But I suspect you already know… if you've been there, that is?"

"Something in the west wing?"

Edmund's smile flattened slightly. "So you _have_ been there. It's not as pleasant as you remember it, hmm?"

I hesitated to answer him, not wanting to provide him with any information he didn't have already.

"Don't bother, I already know all about it. You saw the beast."

"It wasn't a pleasant houseguest, I wager?"

"Ha. That it wasn't. But in all truth, it was its home first. Have you ever heard of Maurice?"

"Not particularly."

"Figures. His story isn't common outside Leicester, or even Edmund territory. He was the lost eleventh elite, as it were. One of Nemesis's men, and wielder of the relic Blutgang. I suspect you viewed that mural you were so suspicious of when you revisited the castle? The new portion is of him. The legend says that after he helped Nemesis and the Ten Elites in service of the goddess, something went terribly wrong, and his crest stone transformed him into a demonic beast in spite of his crest. Long before Castle Edmund was built, this land was the beast's stomping grounds."

"And you haven't eliminated this beast because…?"

Surprisingly, Edmund had no answer. He had been so swept up in his story that he didn't seem to understand why it shouldn't be left at that. I restated my question.

"Why do you just let this animal stomp around in your castle? 'Maurice' or not, it's still a demonic beast, same as any other, and it seems to use a stone castle as a shelter—a perfect place to trap it."

Before I could answer, another knock came at the door. "What do you know, Marquis?" He eagerly stood up to answer.

When the door opened, I saw a woman wrapped tight in a black winter cloak step through the doorway. She handed her scarf to Edmund and then her cloak.

"Might want to keep your gloves on until you warm up, lass," Edmund said as he hung her winter gear on the wall. "'s chillier than usual in here, hmm?"

"Perhaps you're right. It's still a relief to be inside, though." The soft, familiar voice revealed her identity to me even before the shawl came off, revealing her light blue hair. When she saw my face, she startled and gasped, hand on her chest.

"Hello, Marianne."

"Hubert?!"

"It's quite a pleasure to find you alive. Her Majesty will be most pleased."

"H-her Majesty? I… I would rather she not know about me."

"I'm sure you know that anything I know, she will too."

Lady von Edmund turned toward Margrave Edmund as if asking for him to intervene. I found this strange, particularly if Edmund was an impostor as I thought. I know your Majesty will not like hearing this, but the only viable theory I have so far is that she must also be an impostor, albeit a much better one than that of the margrave.

Lady von Edmund sat quietly at the table's third chair as the margrave spun his backwards before sitting himself.

"Needless to say, Margrave, I am curious to learn where your daughter has been all this time. You were reluctant to even discuss her a year ago."

"I'm sure you know, Marquis," Edmund said, grinning again, "that Marianne is a very private person and very religious as well. She was disturbed by your war and went off to an Eastern Church convent for a while to pray and serve the local poor. It was not anyone's place to disturb her in that, but then the defeat of the church meant the end of the convent as well. That's when she came to live with me here."

"Fascinating. I don't suppose you could tell me which convent?"

"S-saint Cethleann Convent."

While Lady von Edmund always had a stuttering habit, something seemed uncertain in her response, as she immediately glanced to Margrave Edmund as if for approval.

"I'm afraid I'm not terribly familiar with the old church infrastructure in the Edmund Margraviate. Is St. Cethleann closer to here or the North Edmund River?"

"It's—um—" She glanced to her father again. "it's sort of in the m-middle."

I leaned forward in my chair facing directly toward Lady von Edmund. "Is it difficult to discuss in front of your father? Perhaps it would be better to catch up person-to-person."

"O-oh, I-I don't think that's, um—"

In my peripheral vision, I caught Edmund rubbing his chin, as if he were unsure what to make of my suggestion. I turned to face him.

"Perhaps you don't remember, but Marianne and I were classmates at Garreg Mach. It's been a long seven years or so since then."

His grin returned. "Oh-ho, is that so… No wonder you were so interested in finding her. I suppose there would be no problem in letting you too speak alone for a while, hmm?" He stood and trotted outside, but it was still close enough that it required us to speak in whispers.

I leaned over to Lady von Edmund. "Show me your crest."

Dejectedly, she reached out her gloved hand and willed it to display itself. While I had only wanted to see it to confirm her identity, it was only then that I realized that it was the same crest that Maurice had possessed in the fresco.

I nodded, satisfied. "How long has this impostor been around? What really happened to you?"

"He knows that you're onto him, Hubert."

"Of course. I want him to know that. It makes him nervous. Now answer my questions."

"It's true that I went to the convent, but it wasn't because of the war. I was… running."

"From the impostor?"

She nodded. "Shortly after the war began, a crest scholar came to Castle Edmund begging for forgiveness. He had been harassing me and my birth family for as long as I can remember, and accused me of… things… that turned into fairly common rumors in our area. My adoptive father had never cared about any of that, though, so he ordered the man out of our territory. He only changed his mind when the crest scholar basically groveled at the castle's door. He said he had been dreadfully mistaken, and disavowed all of his claims about me. But it was all a trick.

"He spend almost two years working for our house in atonement, helping my adoptive father gain more advanced weaponry for our soldiers and better knowledge of crests. One day, he said he had developed a theory of how he could alter a crest from one kind to another, including the Crest of the Beast."

"That's yours, isn't it? The impostor told me about Maurice."

"Yes. Maurice's Crest is known as the Crest of the Beast because of that, and it is cursed with great misfortune to anyone who comes in contact with it. It's why I never went to help Claude. I would only have been a burden to him."

"And you wanted to change it from the Crest of the Beast."

"Yes. I know it's a sin to envy others, but I couldn't help it. It was the only time I've been truly tempted by anything, and I didn't see how there could be anything wrong with wanting to be free from a curse. So, even though my father didn't want me to, I agreed to undergo the experiments."

"And your crest is still here, so they didn't work."

Something burned in Marianne's eyes for a moment. "They were lies!" she almost shouted before she regained her composure and offered a quick apology. "I'm sorry."

"It is appropriate to be angry at deception."

She nodded, keeping her head down. "Thank you, Hubert…"

"Are you able to continue?"

She nodded again. "After a while, it became clear that the experiments were not helping, and my adoptive father was growing frustrated. The war was also not going well, since Edelgard's armies were at Deirdru at that time. Then… some other things happened… and you came…" Tears began to well up in her eyes.

Comfort was not something I am capable of giving, so I instead offered where I thought the story was going. "Is that when the impostor took Margrave Edmund's place?"

Lady von Edmund nodded, still crying. She took a handkerchief to dry her eyes as she continued. "My adoptive father decided to smuggle me out to St. Cethleann, and he took it upon himself to distract them. It… it was the first time I realized… he actually cared for me as something more than an heir. But within the year, the… impostor… found out where I was and persuaded the nuns to return me to him."

"Do you have any idea who he really is?"

"The crest scholar. He continued the experiments."

"'Continued?' So he's no longer doing so?"

She gazed at the corner for a moment before shaking her head. "No. He… got what he wanted, I s-suppose."

I took a moment to look at her hair. It was still light blue as it was seven years ago, and she hadn't suggested a second crest.

"Do you mind telling me what their true objective was."

She panicked, straightening in her chair. "I don't know what they wanted!"

As I remembered her, she was still a terrible liar, but her suddenly raised voice caught the attention of the impostor Edmund.

"Everything okay in here, hmm?" he said, popping his head in through the front door.

"Just remembering old school days, Margrave. Specifically some of our more mischievous classmates."

"Hmm, I see. Well, your lordship," the impostor said, closing the door behind him, "you're welcome to stay here for the evening, if you'd like. It's only getting colder outside right now, and starting to snow. Plenty of demonic beasts, too. Not safe for a lone traveler, hmm?"

The impostor's idiotic grin showed he knew I didn't have much choice. If it weren't for Lady von Edmund being trapped here with him, I'd likely have taken my chances with the dispassionate snow rather than this crocodile. But together, I thought, we might have a chance of getting rid of him and any others of Those Who Slither.

Our hostile host seems to be getting too curious about my lengthy letter-writing, so I'm going to stop here for the day. Apparently, Lady von Edmund has some carrier pigeons she cares for that will deliver my letter to Garreg Mach. Of course, the impostor says I can use one only if I let him look over my letter first, but Lady von Edmund has offered to distract him long enough for me to attach the pages of the letter and release the birds. I am concerned with how the impostor might react, but Lady von Edmund seems confident that he will not retaliate for some reason.

I will send more information when possible, but that will have to wait until I get back to a town. Regardless, I suggest you sent some forces to Edmund territory. It seems we will be having another confrontation with Those Who Slither in the Dark. In the meantime, I will find a way for Lady von Edmund and me to escape this man safely.

Your Majesty's humble servant,

Marquis Vestra

* * *

**I'm starting to regret going for the "letter-writing" style. This update really doesn't work well for it, being so long and narrative-style, which required me to have Hubert acknowledge it at the start. Ah, well, that's what I get for writing by the seat of my pants. It's just a personal writing challenge anyway. That said, the length of this one took a lot of my time, so this is when the "dailyish" part kicks in. I'll probably update again on Wednesday, and hopefully a finish on Halloween. But like I said, I'm writing on the fly, so I don't actually know what I'm going to do. Anyhow, I hope you're enjoying it.**


	7. For the Heirs of House Vestra, Part 1

From the personal journal of Hubert von Vestra, courtesy of the Vestra estate:

To the heirs of House Vestra,

What I write here, I write for posterity. These events, which occurred on the final days of the Wyvern Moon in 1186, were taken out of an earnest conviction that they adhered to her Majesty's interests, but my conduct would not receive her approval if I told her the truth. Instead, I have sent a false report to Enbarr, saying that Marianne von Edmund and I routed the enemy forces, but not before the results of their experiments took her life. It is a half-truth, and therefore a whole lie. Nevertheless, it would do a disservice to the Edmunds and Marianne in particular if I do not record the truth for future generations to correct my deception.

On 28 Wyvern Moon, I was trapped in a cabin on the southern river of Edmund territory by bad weather. I had exhausted my magic in an escape from a demonic beast that morning, and so any journey would have to be made by foot. Furthermore, the cabin I was staying it belonged to one of Those Who Slither in the Dark, who was impersonating Margrave Edmund. I suppose I should have noted the strange coincidence of finding the Margrave at the first place I stumbled upon, but I had been distracted by another revelation: Marianne von Edmund still lived, a prisoner of Those Who Slither.

Although my magic recovered, I could no longer make a quick escape, given that I now had to take Marianne with me. Warping myself was one thing, but I could not quickly transport two people without exhausting my magic again. Besides that, Marianne showed an odd hesitance toward escaping with me. I suspected she was suffering from hostage's sympathy, perhaps having been abused for so long that she had lost her perspective. The other problem was that she had ceased to offer more information. She refused to explain what her captors' experiments were intended to accomplish, replying only with unconvincing denials of knowledge. Her insistence that she knew nothing about who the impostor really was seemed honest, but it was still irksome to have no suggestions other than an unnamed crest scholar. It meant that I did not know the extent of our enemy's abilities, nor whether our magic would be capable of eliminating him.

Unfortunately, the cold snap held me for several days as the temperature dropped well below the Wyvern Moon norm. Our host kept an eager eye on me, preventing me from exploring the cabin much or speaking privately with Marianne. He seemed to have decided one conversation was enough. Meanwhile, he was irritatingly chatty, a strong contrast with the true margrave. He seemed particularly interested in my crest, asking me questions about its abilities and its history. I paid him no mind, and he simply chuckled and continued ending every other sentence with "hmm." It made me long for the relative terseness of idiots like Ferdinand and Caspar. Of course, with the impostor, it was not vain chatter, but an effort to distract me.

More disturbingly, he started to repeatedly invite me to the "wine cellar" downstairs. I didn't know what the room really was, but the first time he offered, Marianne's face turned pale. I declined. The nature of this cabin was confusing to me as well. The more I thought of it, the more certain I was that there was not a dam here a year ago, particularly after I stole a peek at a map on the impostor's table. Even the dam itself was curious, containing large turbines that cranked into something within the cabin. Such technology was a clear sign of Those Who Slither, but I could not find the purpose. It was almost certainly contained in the "wine cellar."

I had already purposed not to leave without Marianne, and since that precluded escape, I decided that I would indeed visit the wine cellar, but only when _un_invited. On the 29th day of the Wyvern Moon, I kept a close eye on the impostor. While he was careful to keep me where he wanted, something compelled him to walk outside often, usually with Marianne in tow. They'd be gone for about half an hour to forty-five minutes before walking back in the door. When he did, the wine cellar door would be locked tight, and I was fairly certain that he cast an enchantment on it at the same time. I'd have to find a way past that.

They left in the early afternoon, bundled tight for the cold, trudging through the accumulating snow. I waited for about five minutes and then examined the door to the wine cellar. I could probably break whatever spell was cast on the lock, but putting it back would be complicated and would probably give my infiltration away. However, I might be able to warp. I was unsure of how well this impostor knew me, but I hadn't used any dark magic yet in his presence. He might assume that I did not know the self-warping spells common to powerful dark mages, and so the walls and floor might not be enchanted to prevent a warp. It was still risky just as it was back at Castle Edmund, since I couldn't see where I was going. But all I had to do was get past the door and back.

I readied my spell to materialize well above the first step behind the door. I would be falling onto the stairs' staggered surface, so I knelt down to be ready to catch myself on the steps. I took a moment to breath, shake my hair away from my eye, and then warped.

Even with my preparation, I landed slightly off-balance, and I skidded down a step or so, bruising my left ribs. I slowly rose in the dark and dusted myself off before sparking a magic flame in the air above my fingers. With the light, I more deftly made my way down the rest of the stairs until I entered a room lined with eerie blue lights along the walls. Everything seemed to be made of metal, seamless and extraordinarily smooth, unlike anything I'd seen out of a blacksmith's forge. It was in that moment I realized that I had never actually seen the facilities used by Those Who Slither before. I had seen hints, similar to the dam outside or the javelins of light used to destroy Arianhrod, but "Arundel" had always been careful to keep Lady Edelgard and me away from their core operations.

Along the walls were a series of large doors that seemed not to have hinges, and each was labeled with an unknown language. As I walked closer, I saw that there was a small glass window in each, only large enough for one to peer in. I gradually approached the first and leaned down to see a sleeping demonic beast inside. To be honest, it was a surreal feeling. Demonic beasts were notoriously hostile to anything in their territory and were known to attack from the first whiff of something nearby. I presumed that the cell doors must have blocked my scent.

I checked each of the other doors as well, seven in all. Two were empty, one contained dead remains (essentially just the human corpse), and the three others contained live beasts, two of which were awake but did not notice me. Each one had a book-sized rectangle on the wall next to it with numbers and unintelligible script. Next to the numbers were round doorknob-like objects with an arrow pointing to one of the numbers. I turned one, but rather than opening the door, frost started to develop on the glass window, and the beast woke and began pacing the chamber. I turned the knob back and the frost began to shrink back. I was tempted to fiddle further, but I needed everything to be exactly the way I left it. I returned the knob to its original position.

In the center of the room was what appeared to be a large cabinet with dozens of drawers. Each were labeled with the same script as the beast doors, and some seemed to match some of the text on the rectangles next to the doors. Not seeing any lock, I opened one.

I am not one to take the goddess's name in vain, since, not being a believer, it holds little force for me, but as I saw what was in those drawers—every drawer—a soft "Goddess Sothis" did leave my lips. Each and every one of the drawers contained twelve artificial crest stones each. As I opened them, I noticed another similarity: each of these were recreations of the Crest of the Beast. That's what they were using Marianne for.

While I had more questions, the situation demanded a change in plans. In this room alone were probably 600 artificial crest stones, far more than Those Who Slither in the Dark had ever deployed in the entire war and since. For less than fifty of these abominations, Lady Edelgard had attacked the Holy Tomb and risked everything seven years ago. Perhaps this was the source of the demonic beast infestation that was said to plague the margraviate, I thought to myself. There was no question: these had to be destroyed now.

I first dashed from door to door, turning the knobs until frost completely obscured the glass. I had no idea how cold it might get, but hopefully it would work like a Blizzard spell on these monsters. I then hurriedly pulled open every one of the crest stone drawers, careful to avoid touching them. As I worked, the beasts began to howl and throw themselves against the doors, which fortunately were too well made to be affected by the intense cold. They held firm.

Once the drawers were open, I rushed to the stairs and stood at an angle that I thought least likely to be hit by shrapnel. I breathed once deeply and then thrust forth my hands with a series of dark spells over the stones. They exploded and crackled from front to back, sending shards all over the room. A few struck the wall rectangles, but fortunately they were as hardy as the doors. The constant ringing of shards on the walls and doors pealed in my ears as I continued to pour on magic until the explosions stopped. I then walked along both sides of the cabinets checking for survivors and blasting them to pieces when found. Soon, the job was finally done, and I ran up the stairs and warped back out.

Marianne and the impostor were not back yet, it seemed, so I took the moments to prepare and let my magic restore. I was even less able to transport two than I was before, but the risk was too great to wait. I snatched the impostor's map and positioned myself behind the door. Whenever it was they came in, I would snatch Marianne and warp as far as possible and figure things out from there.

It took about ten minutes. I heard them arrive as they stepped onto the porch, beating the snow off their shoes. I realized I wasn't sure what to do if the impostor entered first. This whole half-baked plan required more improvisation than I could ever be comfortable with.

I could hear the impostor's voice through the door just before it opened and grimaced. Fortunately, when it did open, it hung there for a second as the cold blustered in. Apparently the patronizing fool couldn't help but pretend he was a gentleman for his prisoner. Perhaps in a twisted way he did think of her as his daughter. I wouldn't put it past one of Those Who Slither in the Dark.

A few seconds later, Marianne stepped in. I threw my cape around her and warped as far out into the snow as I could see.

My haphazard warp meant that we fell out of the air into the snow and rolled down a hill. I tried as best I could to keep Marianne from taking the brunt of it until we skidded to a halt and I hauled us to our feet and began marching through the snow.

Marianne was still a little confused, so I hauled her into my arms and carried her, unwilling to stop for even a moment. The snow was blessedly heavy, both obscuring us from sight and filling in our tracks in quick order. Once I was able, I would warp us again and hopefully lose the impostor for good.

"Stop! Put me down!"

"Easy, Marianne, it's Hubert. We're escaping."

"I don't care, put me down!"

I considered it, but she was in a long heavy winter coat and likely would have a hard time moving quickly. "Just wait a while longer. It will be faster if I carry you."

"I don't want to! Let me go back."

I cursed under my breath. This would be a problem. Maybe I could put her to sleep…

Out of nowhere, some black paw leaped out of the blinding white snow and slashed at my face. I dropped Marianne and staggered, watching red blood drip down to the snow. I quickly turned around, searching for the creature and Marianne while I pulled the corner of my cape to my face to stanch some of the bleeding.

Marianne was pulling herself up and trying to run away with little success. I loped through the snow until I reached her and kept searching for the beast.

"Hold, Marianne. Something struck me. You're safer here."

She didn't say anything and instead began tugging on her boots.

"What are you doing, you'll freeze, you fool!"

"_LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU HUMAN WRETCH!"_

That unearthly sound reverberating from Marianne's mouth of all places was one of the few things that disturbed me to the point of silence. Along with her voice, I could also see black scales gradually appearing on her neck and climbing upward across her face. I also noticed that her gloves were off now, revealing a bloody black hand with clawed fingers. Her boots were also torn off now, revealing the hind legs of a demonic beast.

While I was stunned, she sliced the hem of her coat off with her claws and sprang away, climbing up into the trees. She paused for only a moment in the branches.

"_Please Hubert, for my sake and yours, either let me die or leave here. My blood compels me, and if you don't leave, I will finish what I started at the castle. I'm sorry."_

And with that, she darted off into the forest. And I followed.

* * *

**I'm sure that comes as little surprise. Any Halloween special that involves Marianne pretty much has to touch on the curse of the beast as a major theme, and that's the main reason I chose this idea for a daily writing challenge. There are clearly some issues with writing on the fly like this. The cabin is too coincidental and still irritates me, and I feel like there's very little actual story occurring, whether plot or character development, but I think it really is beneficial to just write something and publish it just to hit a deadline. Up to now, I've only done short stories because every multiple part story I've begun has stopped short, sitting unfinished on my OneDrive. So whatever the quality, I think it's beneficial practice. I hope you enjoy it anyway.**


	8. For the Heirs of House Vestra, Part 2

**I think I might have to up the rating for this chapter because there are some pretty graphic descriptions. So, keep that in mind as you read, JTLYK.**

* * *

From the personal journal of Hubert von Vestra, courtesy of the Vestra estate:

I struggled to keep up with Marianne, but had an easier time of it than I think she expected. Just as I would have in desert sands, I floated over the thickening snow after the black and blue figure in the trees. I saw a flash of reddened skin as she looked back once or twice, but she didn't slow down.

It seemed neither of us were making progress, staying even with each other, until she suddenly stopped, turned, and pounced. I was unprepared and "skidded" over the snow's surface as if I were losing my balance while skating. I crashed backwards into a tree and in an instant, Marianne was upon me. She thrashed her right hand toward my face, but only scratched the tree's bark as I desperately pulled my head out of the way. She followed by swiping her left claws across my stomach, shredding my uniform's front and drawing a little blood. Being larger, I was able to grab her wrists to prevent further strikes. She retaliated by kicking me into the tree with one of her legs until I let go.

She bounced back and prowled a few feet away, watching like a cat. Now that she was moving slower, I could make out more of her transformation. Unlike most transformations, which involved some arcane sludge enveloping the victim and forming the beast, this was a half-baked shifting of flesh and bone. Her legs, as far as they were exposed, were bent "backwards," so to speak, as an animal's hind legs are compared to a human's. Her arms were still relatively human, but only insofar as her hands still resembled clawed, scaled human hands rather than paws. Her tightly braided hair was now free and straggled, with black scales framing her face underneath her blue mane. Her eyes were red and constantly shifting shape between creature and human. Her jaw worked itself as if in pain—perhaps her teeth were also shifting in shape. Her dress was pulling at the seams as her body changed from her light, girlish form to the creature, and a set of jaws were attempting to enclose her head and create the creature's skull. But at the same time, the transformation was constantly in flux, shifting back and forth in a near-cadence.

"Marianne, can you understand me?"

She hissed before answering, _"Better than you understand ME, it seems…"_

I struggled to make my voice sound comforting. I was, perhaps, the most useless person when it came to the soft touch, but I tried to keep in mind people known for their kindness, like the Professor, or Dorothea, or even Lady Edelgard, when it was appropriate for her to be so. It likely didn't help that my face and gut were dripping with red, and I was beginning to feel woozy.

"Marianne… I cannot leave you here. I know that I am not familiar to you, nor is Lady Edelgard, but nevertheless, we are determined to bring you to safety. Seven years you've been missing, as far as we knew. Even during the war—"

"_The war in which you killed my closest friends, you mean? Where is Hilda? Where is Claude? Ignatz? Lysithea?"_

"Claude and Lysithea still live, as does Lorenz and Leonie. It is true that there were tragic deaths, but the world isn't as hostile as you've been told. And these people who did these experiments to you—making the crest stones in the wine cellar and abusing you for your crest—Lady Edelgard seeks to destroy them just as she did the corrupt church that falsely acted in the goddess's name. Come with me, and we will find a way to save you."

I watched her closely with a glint of hope when the scales receded slightly. She gazed down into the snow where her hands made red prints.

"_It's no use. And you'll regret staying here. No matter how hard I resist, he will trigger the transformation… and my blood will take control. That's how it's always happened. Something threatens his work and he sends me like a dog to take care of them. And the things… the things that I do! Innocent people not just killed but shredded to pieces and h-half… half-eaten. And then the sickening satisfaction I feel until he lets me change back and view what I've done with my sanity returned and the taste of them still on my tongue, and then I vomit up the pieces that weren't done away with by magic. All I want to do is die, Hubert! And I pray, and I pray, and she doesn't listen, and I continue to live!"_

Suddenly she whirled toward me and growled, catlike eyes staring through mine, pawing the ground and baring her teeth. _"AND IF YOU DON'T LEAVE HERE, YOU'LL LEARN WHAT I MEAN! You only escaped me in the castle by luck. Out here in the forest, you won't be able to hide. Don't make me see parts of you in my nightmares tonight, Hubert. Please!"_

I stood still in the snow as she wheeled back and forth, watching me. The transformation continued to stutter, and each time it advanced she would grimace. I have never been sentimental, nor was I then, but the simple fact was that if Lady Edelgard were here, she would never stand to allow Marianne to go on through these horrors.

"Very well, Marianne. But trust me on this, you will be avenged." With that, I warped away, but only to the upper trees, where I could see from above. I was confident that I would not be detected, given how much of my blood was scattered in the area.

Once I was gone, Marianne stopped fighting the transformation and the horrible scene reached its conclusion. The jaws snapped over her head and her hands lost all humanity. The body of the creature rapidly gained mass until it reached the size of the beast I had seen in Castle Edmund. This must have been how she got in, I realized, having only transformed after entering the west wing. She spun around and dug at the blood stains on the ground before lapping them up with her tongue before moving on to the other splatters of red. For safety's sake, I warped further away, but still close enough to track her.

The creature became frustrated after a while and began roaring, presumably because the blood I had left behind had run out. She bounded through the trees in search of more, but I took care to evade her and double back on her own path so as to confuse her. My task was also made easier as she stopped to slaughter a few animals who crossed her path, including one of those famed golden deer, like the one in the fresco at the west wing.

In time, I noticed the impostor finally making his way into the forest in Marianne's direction. Now my prey had arrived. As he walked through the trees, I was careful to remain concealed in the upper limbs until his positioning was right, gripping my dagger. When he stepped underneath me, I warped down and thrust it into his back with an eager twist.

The disguise quickly faded away as he half-cackled, half-choked. His true appearance, with the unearthly skin and black eyes were unknown to me as an individual, but as one of Those Who Slither and the person responsible for torturing Marianne, it was a unique pleasure to watch him squirm.

"Kh-ha! She hasn't caught you yet after—" he coughed some black blood into the snow, "after all, hmm?"

"No, she hasn't. And if I know anything of the dark arts, your spell over her will be broken with your death."

"Will it now, hmm?" He laughed and choked some more. "You primitives know so little. I triggered her transformation this time, but every—hack—everything that made it possible is contained within her. She is truly a daughter of Maurice, the old fool. She was a fiiine success. I had been trying to create an intelligent, transform-at-will demonic beast for a thousand years, but Maurice's Crest was that—mwah!—that secret ingredient! And I hope you're enjoying that—hccch—knife twist because what she is now, she is forever…. hmm?"

I wiggled the knife a little. "You know, you're not dead yet, 'Margrave.' And this knife wound won't be fatal on its own. I think you're going to—"

"Let me—hccch—stop you—hcchh—right there…. First, I'd rather die—any death—than to help that witch of an emperor. Second, I never bothered researching _un_-doing my experiments. That girl will be my greatest creation forever. Go ahead. Feed me to her…"

With that, I ripped the knife out and replanted it in his heart. "You deserve it," I said as the pinprick of light in his black eyes faded, "but she would be horrified." His last breath left him, and I burned his body to ash.

As he withered in the flames, I saw the beast approach cautiously out of the woods. Gradually, the transformation began to revert, as the beast shrank and the jaws opened, pulling back like a hood from over the terrified girl's face. With a sudden crack, her rear legs bucked forward at the knees, and the scales began to subside.

"H-Hubert?" she whimpered, losing her balance as she shifted from four legs to two, stumbling into the snow. I stepped over and wrapped my cape around her to protect her modesty as the scales vanished.

"He's gone now, Marianne. Just as I had said. He was a fool to assume I was already dead."

"H-Hubert?" she said again, looking up at me from under bedraggled blue locks.

"Shh… easy, now, milady. It's fine now."

Suddenly, she began to push around inside the cape, until she was able to get her hands out, only to sob as she saw the scales and claws still remained on her arms.

"No, no, no, no, no, no…"

"I'm sorry, Marianne. He told me it was irreversible, and even if he were lying, I doubt I could have made him cooperate. There is no more stubborn enemy than an Agarthan."

"Please, Mother Goddess, keeper of Fódlan and queen of the kings, it is a sin to kill myself, so please, let me die."

"Let's go home, Marianne."

"Please, Mother Goddess, keeper of Fódlan and queen of the kings, let me die."

I waited for her to finish praying.

"Please, Mother Goddess, keeper of Fódlan and queen of the kings, let me die."

I watched her stare at her folded hands, claws and all, as she prayed.

"Please, Mother Goddess, keeper of Fódlan and queen of the kings, let me die."

I looked over to my dagger, still black with the impostor's blood, sitting on my hip.

"Please, Mother Goddess, keeper of Fódlan and queen of the kings, let me die."

I took it, wiped the devil's blood from it in the snow.

"Please, Mother Goddess, keeper of Fódlan and queen of the kings, let me die."

I tightened my cape around her so that I could discern where her heart was underneath.

"Please, Mother Goddess, keeper of Fódlan and queen of the kings, let me die."

"Marianne?"

"Please, Mother Goddess, keeper of Fódlan and queen of the kings, let me die."

"Your prayer is answered."

I thrust it in and she finally took her eyes off her hands. She leaned back into my arms, gazing up through strands of blue hair into the silver snow of the sky.

"Dear Goddess Sothis, I thank you for answering my prayer. P-please care for those I love… and keep them safe from the wicked. Amen."

In a few moments, her body fell limp, and I picked her up gently. I warped us as far as I could and then walked the rest of the way with her in my arms as we approached Castle Edmund. There, I took her body to the west wing and rummaged until I found some women's clothing in a bedroom on the wing and carefully dressed the corpse. I went outside and blasted some snow away with a fire spell. Then I used what little warp magic I had left to remove a large block of dirt from the ground and laid it next to the hole. I picked up her body, and laid it in the bottom, unfortunately unable to find a substitute for a coffin. I said a few words, prayed to the goddess to receive her spirit, and pushed dirt back into the whole by hand. When the cold became oppressive, I went inside to warm up before going back out and continuing to fill the grave, repeating until it was done. I then went inside and slept.

* * *

**One more day remaining on this daily challenge. I know I've been bringing it up for several chapters now, but I'm really kicking myself for some of the narrative inconsistencies in this story. But as I've also been telling myself repeatedly, that's not what I'm focused on. Just keep on writing. Anyhow, all we have left is the epilogue.**


	9. 31 Wyvern Moon, 1186 Castle Edmund

From the correspondence of Edelgard von Hresvelg, emperor emeritus of Adrestria, courtesy of the Hresvelg estate:

31 Wyvern Moon, 1186; Castle Edmund

Lady Edelgard,

If my fondest wishes are fulfilled and your life outlasts mine, you will be given this letter by the heirs of House Vestra in accordance with my will. I write this to rectify an action of mine that, had I been alive at the time, would have earned your fury—perhaps justly so. As I have always promised, I obey you up to the point that I believe it to be to your benefit. Usually, that has been for less consequential actions than the one I explain here.

I write this from within Castle Edmund in a room I described to you in previous letters with a mural of a demonic beast killing a golden deer. Looking at it after all that's happened, I think I understand its purpose. There's a hint of Ignatz Victor's style in it, but more amateurish and with strong influences from religious art, which leads me to believe that Marianne von Edmund was its painter. Perhaps she learned a little from Ignatz at the Officer's Academy. But what truly identifies it with her is the story behind it: the animal consuming the Golden Deer. A prophecy of sorts.

Tragically, her suffering is at least in part because of us. While we were always aware that our erstwhile allies were committing atrocities behind our backs, only the murder of Jeralt Eisner hit so close to home as this. I sent you an official report describing the details to a point, but now I give you the full truth. I have enclosed a copy of a journal entry I have made, detailing what actually happened, and my responsibility for the death of Marianne. Their experiments, after further investigation, appeared to be for the purpose of creating demonic beasts that remained intelligent and could change back to human form. The goal, however, is unimportant; the results were tragic, and the methods abhorrent.

When she laid there in the snow begging the goddess to let her die, I realized that it would be harmful to prolong her suffering, or at least, that was my earnest assessment. If I told you, I knew that you would never give up on her, and would keep her alive, enduring experiments for years on end even as she continued begging for reunion with the goddess. Even if these experiments were to save her life rather than to warp it, it would make little difference to her. Even if Linhardt and Hanneman found a way to change her back, those horrors would haunt her for the rest of her life. You, of course, would never accept failure. It is your nature to persevere to the end, even if you caused more suffering in spite of your intentions. So I chose to take the question out of your hands.

Of all the killings I have committed and the lies I have told, this is perhaps the worst, but I do not doubt my decision. My only shame is that I have concealed the truth. It feels cowardly, as if I fear the hangman's noose. It should be my role to bear the burdens of these decisions for you, and then to bear whatever consequences there are, even on your orders. But the decision's been made. This letter will be locked away with my journal until my heirs read it. I will stay alive to fight the Agarthans with you to the end. Perhaps I will pass in the remaining battles, and the goddess will issue punishment on her most faithful servant's behalf.

But there is one final thing that must be done. No gravestone was ever erected for Marianne, given the secrecy of her death and burial. Only a stone for her adopted father stands outside Castle Edmund, even though he had no body left to bury. Nevertheless, it stands next to where I buried her, just as if he lay next to her. With both of her families passed away, it stands to others to memorialize them instead.

I do not feel that I have the right to take up that task, but the thought weighs heavy on me, so I must try in spite of that feeling. I have willed specific funds from House Vestra for the purpose, to be entrusted to you for her grave.

I feel I have little more to say. Emotion still does not overtake me, but there is a burden of contemplation, so to speak. All I can do is sit in this chamber and look up at Maurice, the Beast, and the Deer. It is harrowing to me.

Your humble servant,

Hubert

Pencil rubbing of gravestone outside Castle Edmund, courtesy of the Hresvelg estate:

Marianne von Edmund

23 Red Wolf Moon, 1162 – 30 Wyvern Moon, 1186

Faithful, merciful, healer, friend,

Golden Deer

Her dearest wish was to do no harm.

* * *

**Well, that was an interesting endeavor. It's not the story I'm proudest of, but considering what it is, I'm rather pleased. I honestly had no idea it was going to go this way when I started writing, though I had some ideas. Originally, I had planned for the story to occur from Marianne's point of view and Hubert was never in it at all. It was just NPC's interacting with her as she gradually fell victim to TWSITD and had her humanity stripped from her.**

**Most of my stories on are not hardly this grim. "Love Is Like Killing" and "Hans Must Die" are two connected stories about Beruka and Corrin. Don't ask me what compelled me to write a ship-fic of all things; I still don't know myself. "Parent Trap" is a story about Setsuna struggling with becoming a mother. Technically it also includes a ship, but it's more a character study of Setsuna. Silas is just useful for developing her in that case, as the designated normal dude of _Fates_. Then there's "The Love of the Mother," which is a look into the growing madness of Mila from the POV of a nun in her service. Please give them a look and review any of these stories including this one if you would be so kind. Happy Halloween.**


End file.
